The Thief
by hpdrfan1
Summary: The final battle between Dumbledore and Grindlewald in 1995. 'Albus Dumbledore would forever consider himself a thief in that moment' Reviews would be MUCH appreciated :D PLEASE check out my HP forum!


AN: Reviews would be nice :)

**AN: Reviews would be nice :)**

Gellert Grindelwald, though he crumpled to the ground like a house of cards, was not dead. His legs, tucked under his torso at an angle that wouldn't occur in the normal human anatomical structure, were naked to the moonlight (his robe and billowing pants having blown upwards in the heat of the battle). His outer cloak rippled out around his golden curls that adorned his head like a poisonous wreath of Devil's Snare; the cloth seemed akin to a liquid consistency. Gellert could have been sleeping, save the line of blood that dripped down, down his brow and the drip, drip of it as it his the tile below him. The sound resonated shrilly as the corpse-like figure on the ground shuddered violently, and then lay still. His arms were spread in a martyr-like position, as if he had been nailed upon a cross; in one hand lay the Elder Wand, a knife in the dark. The moon, having come out from behind a cloud, illuminated Gellert's face at last... it was child like in its softness, nothing like the snarl that had been placed on it just minutes before. It was an angelic face, one that could have been painted as a cherub on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel.

For a moment, the figure stood beside him, still and quiet; the auburn hair that flowed from the crown on his head stuck to the back of his neck, plastered by sweat and blood. The man was tall, taller than most, and was thoroughly striking... though nothing like the wounded angle that lay beside him. Albus Dumbledore did not breath for a full minute, and when he did exhale, it was in a sob.

He had spent six months merely tracking Gellert; watching him run from him. He ravaged the places he hid in, and Albus was indeed sorry for the ones who he could have saved from such bitter trauma by just attacking him early on. But watching him... the snoop in Albus would not let him. He had loved Gellert like a brother, in fact _better_ than his own brother. It was incomprehensible that out of their enchanting summer together and the friendship they created-- that Gellert could become _this_... this heaping pile of ignorance and worthless tirades.

Gellert had been so _intoxicating_, Albus remembered. He was so delightfully unhinged, unattached to the real world in a way that enabled him to think of himself as above and beyond the duties of a mortal man. Albus noted the Greater Good was his way of tricking Albus-- but no, there had been no trick. Albus had dearly believed these things, had loved the concepts that the two young boys had come up with in the dark corners of Godric's Hollow. He had thought the two of them, genius and all-knowing, could make... no, _force_ the world into becoming a better place. "Force the world into submission..." That was a quote of Albus's, in fact; he cringed at the thought of how _vigarously_ and with what _enthusiasm_ he'd said the words, and how Gellert's eyes had gleamed with excitement and derangement.

Albus crouched down to Gellert's immobile body. He muttered "Expecto Patronum," sending his phoenix patronus out into the night to inform the Ministry of Magic that Grindelwald had been captured. They would be there in moments. Albus reached out to touch Gellert's face, and instead was sick in the bushes beside them. Blinking away what he refused to categorize as tears, he rubbed his hands together; they had turned a blue-ish color in the cold winter night. Slowly, a rattle was heard; the Elder Wand slid out of Gellert's hand, his fingers moving slightly as they at last were devoid of what they had long coveted. Albus turned to look at the destructive object. It seemed rather insignificant, there on the ground beside the magnificently brutal sight of Gellert's unconscious body. Bending down, Albus picked the wooden stick up and compared his own wand to it for a full minute before pocketing both in silent submission.

There were suddenly several pops, though Albus did not turn.

"What the-- Albus, but... _how?_" said a voice Albus recognized as one Cornelius Fudge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic. After waiting a beat, Dumbledore turned around from sleeping Gellert to the astonished faces of various assundry Ministry personell.

"It was a mighty duel," Albus said simply, looking at each of them coolly from beneath his half-moon glasses. His aquamarine eyes shone with admiration for the man that lay beside him. "If you need further details, I'm sure Gellert and a few drops of Veritaserum will do the trick. And now, I must be off." Detaching himself from the crowd (who now surrounded Gellert with a morbid fascination, as if he were a burning house or wreck of some sort) and Disapparated with a pop.

Stumbling with vertigo after arriving in the cemetery of Godric's Hollow, Albus struggled to find a headstone to support himself with; finding none, he fell to the soft, soft ground below his feet. Far away (though he knew that the place was miles apart from his current position), he thought he could hear the _pit pat_ of them taking Gellert away.

Albus Dumbledore would forever consider himself a thief in that moment.


End file.
